


You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners

by drwhoish



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Kid Mycroft, Kid Q, Kid Sherlock, Multi, My First Fanfic, Q is a Holmes, not sure what this is going to turn into
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwhoish/pseuds/drwhoish
Summary: Some little fluffy fics about Christmas with the three Holmes brothers





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Mycroft is 9 and Sherlock is 2

Mycroft glowered over the top of his roast potatoes.

He had picked out the crackers specially, with mummy, and had read the back of the box at least a hundred times. He had his heart set on the cracker with the golf tee in it (never mind that he didn’t even play golf, he had a need for that tee).

Mycroft wanted it more than he wanted the chess set, which he had received that morning, to short lived delight, and was 98 percent sure that the red cracker had it in. He had carefully placed the cracker next to his plate, and had opened it with almost giddy excitement.

To find a lousy little keyring.

It had taken almost all of Mycroft’s will power not to burst into tears, especially when Mummy had opened hers to reveal a set of cards, and Daddy found a dice. It meant that _Sherlock_ , who wasn’t even old enough to have a cracker, let alone understand the concept of Christmas, had the beautiful, precious golf tee.

It was the final straw when Mycroft had looked over to see his brother stare him in the eyes, then carefully, with extreme precision, stick the tee up his nose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft is 18, Sherlock is 12 and Q is 8

Mycroft had helped more than usual with the dinner, what with Mummy’s bad back, and was really rather pleased with how his roast potatoes had come out. Crispy and golden, yet soft in the middle, rather like himself, he liked to think. Minus the golden part – his hair was more of an auburn shade than anything else, unlike his brothers’ identical masses of dark curls.

Speaking of his brothers, the house had hardly had a break since six o’clock in the morning when Q had woken up in a state of frenzied excitement. Even Sherlock, who had come to the conclusion hat Christmas was boring, fake and a waste of time and money, struggled to hide his delight at the gifts he was given (the little magnifying glass had gone down a storm) although tried to cover up this fact by loudly deucing everybody’s gifts, with a smug grin when he turned out to be correct.

This hadn’t fazed Q, who settled down with his new computer immediately. Last time Mycroft had checked he seemed to be in the process of re-wiring it, so Mycroft had hastily left the room to check on the turkey, which was doing splendidly.

Exactly on schedule, Mycroft had announced dinner, which was met with excited cries from the youngest member of the family. Mummy gave Mycroft a huge smile as she settled, pouring him a rather large glass of wine.

Before the sprouts were on the table, Q, supported by Daddy, had started a cry of ‘crackers, crackers, crackers’ so Mycroft quickly sat down and pulled one with Sherlock (to Sherlock's disgust). Q brandished an oversized paper clip with delight, not seeming quite sure of its purpose, while Sherlock seemed rather disgruntled with a purple golf tee, which he set down on the table, refusing to wear his hat.

Halfway through the meal, Q’s hat was more of a large necklace ripped in several places, and he seemed in imminent danger of falling asleep in his gravy. Mycroft gently lifted him through to the sofa, let Sherlock run upstairs, and raised a glass of well-deserved wine with his parents.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft is 40, Sherlock is 34 and Q is 30  
> (I tried to stick to canon ages but it’s never really explicitly stated so might be a bit off… this one is meant to take place the Christmas after the one in his Last Vow. Q’s age was a wild stab in the dark)

Q absentmindedly picked at a bowl of crisps.

‘You haven’t poisoned these, have you?’

Sherlock shot him a look. ‘Shame you weren’t here last year, I would have asked Bill to give you a lethal dose. Where were you?’

‘I was a little preoccupied with work’

This time it was Mycroft’s turn to shoot Q a look. He was the only one who knew what Q actually did for a living – not that he was meant to, but being the literal British Government had its perks. Q was sure Sherlock could find out with little to no effort as well, but for now he, and their parents, thought Q simply worked in an office somewhere, ignorant of the fact that ‘preoccupied’ was another word for being held in a dungeon somewhere in Pakistan.

‘Anyway, I was rather looking forward to meeting this John. Disappointing.’

‘I told you, he's having his first Christmas as a family’

Q nodded and returned to the crisp bowl, jumping as Mummy entered the room with a grin on her face.

‘Time for dinner boys! Daddy is carving the turkey – who wants to hand out the potatoes?’

For the next five minutes the three seemed to become boys again, bickering for a good seat (although to be fair this was mainly Q and Sherlock. Mycroft usually went for the silence unless complaining strategy at Christmas), and the best slice of turkey. Sherlock then used almost all of the gravy, which caused another argument, leading to Mummy crying ‘crackers!’ rather loudly in a hope to relieve the tension.

Q and Sherlock pulled their crackers together – Sherlock's new golf tee went spinning off into the air while Q’s nail clippers landed in his sprouts.

Mycroft sighed and glanced at his watch – dear lord. It was only 3 o’clock.


End file.
